


Certified

by WildwingSuz



Series: Skinner POV Stories [3]
Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-29
Updated: 2015-04-29
Packaged: 2018-03-26 07:04:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3841594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WildwingSuz/pseuds/WildwingSuz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Not given at author's request.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Certified

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Notes at end.
> 
> Timeline/Spoilers: sometime after Season 7, alternate universe; anything after Je Souhaite never happened (i.e. Mulder disappearing, Scully's pregnancy, etc) in this nice little world of mine where the X-Files just went on and on.

Certified  
By Suzanne Feld  
Rated PG

 

“Would either or both of you care to explain this?”

They glanced at each other, then Mulder stood up and leaned forward, reaching for the piece of paper which Skinner held just out of his reach. “Sir?” he said, looking over at his superior with a frown as he stopped, standing, before the desk.

“Agent Scully? Would you like to take a look?”

Also frowning, she got up out of her chair and peered at the paper then glanced up at him. “It's a marriage certificate.”

“It is,” Skinner clarified, pulling it back. “And did you see the names on it?”

They glanced at each other, clearly baffled. “No,” Mulder said. “Why?”

He was staring at each of them closely in turn, and they gazed back with puzzled expressions. They were standing side by side in front of his desk, exactly where he wanted them. “Then look closer,” he hissed, standing as well and holding the paper out again. 

As she read the words on it, Scully felt her face grow hot and her heart sank to her feet. “I—I don't know where you got this, if it's some kind of joke--”

She glanced over at Mulder, whose face was pale. Although he had shaved that morning, the shadow of his beard stood out clearly against his skin without its usual color. 

“I got it from the Las Vegas field office,” Skinner said, pulling it back over the desk and slamming it down on his otherwise-empty blotter. “They Fedexed it over to me this morning, the envelope was on Arlene's desk when I came in early,” he said through gritted teeth. “There was a note saying that they had been investigating a con artist by the name of Dayna Scully-- D-A-Y-N-A – and they found this. It flagged because your name is, of course, Agent Scully, in their database.”

Speechless, the two agents looked at each other, then over at their boss. “Sir...”

“Hold it, Agent Mulder. Just hold it. Before we go any further, I want to ask you each a question and you will answer it as truthfully as if you had your right hand on a Bible, one at a time.”

He turned to her. “Agent Scully, are you married to Agent Mulder?”

“No, sir, I am not,” she said firmly, gazing right back at him although her face still held remnants of the color that had flooded it moments before. Both arms were rigid at her sides, he could see both her hands and her fingers were not crossed, though her hands were fisted. She was nearly at military attention, he realized with part of his mind.

“Agent Mulder. Are you married to Agent Scully?”

“No, sir,” he replied, but Skinner noted that his eyes were sparkling despite his still-pale face. “I can't say I'd mind all that much if I were, but unfortunately that's not the case. Sir.”

He glared at them a few moments longer, then with a heaved sigh he sat down and waved them to their chairs. “Then where in the sam hell did this come from?”

Scully shrugged as she sat down, but looked concerned. “Is it valid, sir?”

“It appears to be. It's got the seal and signatures and everything.” He handed it over. 

She studied the small piece of paper, about half the size of a normal sheet. It was a marriage certificate dated October 13th, 2000, at the Little White Wedding Chapel in the city of Las Vegas, county of Clark, state of Nevada, United States of America. But the signatures, she noted, were from the county clerk and officiating clergy, not the participants. Their names were typed in, and were correct: Fox William Mulder, residing in the state of Virginia and Dana Katherine Scully, residing in the District of Columbia. “Are you sure it's us? If my name could be mistaken for one spelled a bit different, then--”

“Fox?” the man with the name said as he took the paper from her and studied it. “I doubt there's anyone else in the country with the misfortune to have my first name. Hey—could it have been from the Falls of Arcadia case? When we were undercover as a married couple?”

“That was, what, spring of '99? I doubt it,” Scully said slowly, shaking her head. “Then again, maybe. It's the only thing that makes sense. I don't know where else that could have come from.”

“Where were you both last October?” Skinner asked, steepling his fingers and resting his chin on them.

“Let's see...” Mulder mused. The other two in the room could almost see him flipping through case files in his mind. “That would have been right about the time of the mud monster in Oklahoma. Weren't we there the second week in October, Scully?”

She shrugged. “All I really remember of last October is that I took Halloween weekend off and flew to San Diego to spend the holiday with my nephews,” she said. “I took that next Monday off because I came back on the red eye Sunday night and didn't want to be jet lagged at work.”

“I remember that too,” Skinner said, then exhaled and sat back. “All right, then, this must be some kind of mistake. You may go, agents.”

They stood, Mulder handing back the marriage license. “Is, uh, is this going to cause any kind of problems for us, sir?” he asked haltingly. “I'd hate for Agent Scully to get--”

“No, no, no one knows about this but us and the agent in the Nevada office who sent it. I'll contact him and let him know it's a mistake and to forget about it.”

So dismissed, Mulder and Scully let themselves out of his office and closed the door behind them. Skinner stared at it for a moment, then picked up the phone. “Arlene? Get me Agent Santiago at the Vegas office.”

A few moments later, he spoke again. “Santiago? Skinner. You were right. It's them. What? Hang on, I can't understand you. Are you done? All right. Yes, I'm sure. You should have seen their faces, it was priceless! No, of course I didn't get a picture. . . but wish I could have. Yeah, they lied to me with totally straight faces. What? Of course not. I was just having fun with them, yanking their chains. They've done it to me enough times that I don't feel the least bit guilty getting them back. Yeah, let's keep it to ourselves. All right, thanks again—I owe you one. Talk to you later.”

***

The room was dark and quiet but for soft breathing, then, “I can't sleep. He knows.”

“We know he knows, but he doesn't know for sure. He seemed to believe us.”

“That didn't make any sense, Mulder.” Rustle of bedclothes.

“It did to me, so trust me. We're all right.”

“And we didn't even have to lie to him—not really.”

“Never occurred to him, I bet, that we're not legally married in the eyes of your church. Good thing that doesn't bother you.”

“But he still found out--I told you it was too risky!”

Another rustle of sheets. “Not like I had all that much trouble talking you into it.”

A low chuckle. “Of course you didn't, you big lug. Who else would I marry?”

“Good thing Skinner didn't check and see that Oklahoma City is less than two hours from Vegas by plane.”

“Or that we weren't in our motel rooms that last night.”

Another rustle of material in the dark. “And that he didn't need to call either of us that Halloween weekend.”

“Wish our honeymoon had been longer than a weekend.”

“Me too, but what a weekend!”

A very un-Scully like giggle in the dark. “Care to re-create it?”

“All of it? In one night? What, do you think I'm Superman?”

“I'll settle for my very own Clark Kent and we can both have secret identities. Where are your glasses...?”

 

finis

**Author's Note:**

> My marriage license is hanging on the wall across from my desk. The date on it is October 13th, 2000 (long before I discovered the X-Files in March of 2007, by the way) and guess where we were married. Nuff said?


End file.
